


Breathe

by winwinism



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, Choking, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends With Benefits, Jealousy, M/M, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 09:27:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28469010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winwinism/pseuds/winwinism
Summary: Sicheng secretly liked it when Jaehyun was a little mean in bed.
Relationships: Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun
Comments: 8
Kudos: 111





	Breathe

Sicheng secretly liked it when Jaehyun was a little mean in bed. Not literally in bed, because they rarely were when they did it, but you know. He liked it when Jaehyun pulled him by the scruff of his neck into a spare closet or back room, sweaty and throbbing in his tight briefs because performing well always made him horny, and ordered Sicheng onto his knees in a flat voice, one that left no room for questions or backtalk. The curses that would spill from Jaehyun’s lips, the roughness of Jaehyun’s hand on his nape, the musky smell that would flood Sicheng’s nose and mouth--it would all fuel Sicheng’s fantasies for weeks. 

Jaehyun wasn’t always like that, though. Normally, he was gentle, almost apologetic. Sicheng wouldn’t ask for him to change, because lord knew how much of that he got from everyone else. He was just curious. He wondered if there was another Jaehyun lurking within, and supposing there was, if he could draw him out. 

Sicheng had always made Jaehyun a little crazy. He was too pretty, too innocent, and Jaehyun got a sick thrill out of making him tear up. He’d wanted his cock between those lips the day they met. But he was in the thrall of his own adolescent hormones back then--now he had no excuse, and years of friendship between them to boot. Heart pounding, still high on the spotlight, his mind would go inexorably to Sicheng. No matter how well Jaehyun performed, no matter how loud the screams, he would remember Sicheng’s disinterested stares, every dull look of rejection, and the high would turn to something like rage. Rage, desire--it all felt the same. If Sicheng was close at hand, he’d grab him and find relief in the warm abyss of his mouth; if not, he’d jerk off somewhere, cumming quickly like he’d been edged for hours. 

The lies Jaehyun told himself every time they touched were enough to make him sick. It was just a quick fuck here and there. Just stress relief, easily arranged with mutually assured secrecy. Yeah, right. 

Sicheng vaguely remembers how it happened. Jaehyun was messing with him as usual, half-hugging, half-wrestling Sicheng while he batted away at Jaehyun in protest, trying in vain to tamp down the warm, fluttery feeling in his chest. His superior strength letting him have his way, Jaehyun nuzzled Sicheng’s cheek and hummed nonsensically. The vibrations sent shivers coursing down Sicheng’s spine; Jaehyun only hugged him tighter. Sicheng twisted in Jaehyun’s grip, screwing up his face like he’d swallowed a bitter lemon. So close, with them being so similar in height, this put their lips scarce inches apart. Jaehyun’s eyes fell to Sicheng’s scowl, dazed, and his own lips twisted into a wicked grin. 

When Jaehyun bumped their lips together, it was a joke. Playing gay chicken, he would’ve said if asked. Sicheng stopped struggling, but he didn’t move away even when Jaehyun let his arms slacken. He shivered again. So Jaehyun kissed him again, his mouth softened in awe; and this time, it wasn’t a joke. 

“You wanna keep doing this?” Jaehyun said, after that first time. Sicheng blinked at him, slow like his lashes were heavy. 

“What do you mean?”

“Just this.” He shrugged, aware of how unnatural it must’ve looked. His heart was still beating too fast. “Having sex.”

“Sex,” Sicheng said, and the way he purred it in that deep, round voice of his could’ve been enough to get little Jaehyun up for a third round. “It’s not really having sex, is it?” 

Jaehyun froze. “Well, what is it then? Getting off together?” 

“Yeah, that.”

Jaehyun blushed furiously as he pulled his sweater down over his head. The news that Sicheng had opinions on what counted as _sex_ between men struck him as both unexpected and weirdly exciting. He thought about telling Sicheng he was gay. “So? It’s good, isn’t it?”

“I guess.” Sicheng’s fingers curled in the mussed-up sheets. 

“ _I guess_. You seemed into it.” 

“Yeah.” He tilted his head back, staring into the ceiling. “I guess.”

Fingers of moonlight filtered through the curtains and fell across Sicheng’s clavicle and soft neck. Jaehyun stared at the skin there, so lustrous and tan during the day, now turned icy blue, and felt a powerful urge to bite. He felt downright vampiric, like he’d suck up all of Sicheng’s lifeblood and beauty if given an inch. He’d take whatever he could get. 

It’s not like Sicheng hadn’t considered men before Jaehyun; he just hadn’t taken them seriously. There were action heroes and upperclassmen and professors he could admire from afar, whose masculine beauty he held in a kind of reverence that wouldn’t have been particularly conducive to reciprocation. It wasn’t like he was going to marry a man, so the matter didn’t need any further reflection. His fantasies were his own. That, he knew. 

Naturally, falling into an _arrangement_ with Jaehyun-- _Jaehyun_ , of all people--hadn’t been in his plans. Jaehyun taking charge of the whole thing, delineating it in that hesitant way of his--so awkward was he with vulnerability, but no more than Sicheng--made Sicheng relieved; he’d have hated if the burden fell to him, and if they never spoke about it again as a consequence. They probably would’ve drifted apart. Doing it again was the only way their friendship could survive. And when it ended, well. He’d worry about that when the time came. 

Sicheng had been reticent with him the past week, much more so than usual. It was driving Jaehyun up the wall. Cut off from the encounters that had become so routine, Jaehyun found it increasingly difficult to persuade himself that he wasn’t obsessed. He thought about Sicheng during every last second of downtime, and there weren’t many of those; he drummed his fingers as his fantasies played out and devolved into filth, humming and staring off into space with a pinched brow and bitten lips. Others would ask him what was up, but he couldn’t very well be honest about it. “Just tired,” he’d say. That was never a lie. “Haven’t been sleeping well.” 

“You worried about something?”

“No. No more than usual.” 

One night, he decided he’d corner Sicheng somewhere. Find a quiet place where they could talk. The possibility that Sicheng wanted to end things welled up in Jaehyun’s throat, but he knew had to go through with it, or he’d drive himself fully insane for want of knowing. 

Jaehyun texted him. _Let’s meet in the smaller practice room. I have a key._ Sicheng texted back an blank-faced emoji, then: _What time?_ The typing bubble popped up, disappeared, re-appeared. _How’s midnight?_

Sicheng briefly entertained the idea of making an excuse--a week had been enough to make rebuffing Jaehyun a habit--until the implication of Jaehyun’s message sunk in. It was time, then. Excitement zipped down his spine and left his whole body tingling as he replied with his assent. 

They didn’t normally arrange meetings like this. It was very ad-hoc. At a minute past midnight, Sicheng padded down the halls with practiced quiet, already somewhat aroused. He heard a door slam down by the vocal practice rooms and froze, catching his breath until he was sure no footsteps would follow. 

The door was unlocked. He pulled it open just wide enough to slip through, graceful as a fox, and let it click shut behind him. He turned, his back to the door, and at once Jaehyun was upon him. 

The only light came from Jaehyun’s phone, lying on the wood panelled floor with the flashlight glaring upwards and bouncing off the mirrors--scarcely enough to make out Jaehyun’s features. But the familiar height and scent and shape of him was unmistakable. He drew in closer until they stood toe-to-toe and took Sicheng’s hands in his own, sliding his thumbs over Sicheng’s sensitive wrists. 

“Hey, Sicheng,” Jaehyun whispered. Sicheng bit back a smile. He was ticklish. 

“Hey.” 

“What’s up with you?” Jaehyun said. “I feel like I haven’t seen you all week.” 

“Nothing.” He raised his hands, trying to brush off Jaehyun’s hold on him, but the fingers around his wrists only cinched tighter. 

“Really?” Jaehyun’s lips quirked, like he, too, was repressing a laugh. “You just haven’t felt like it lately, or something?”

“I haven’t really thought about it,” he lied. 

“Huh.” Jaehyun’s eyes, glittering in the near-dark, searched his face. “Are you sure? I dunno what to believe…”

Sicheng tossed his head aside and made a short, dismissive sound, a sort of scoff. “Are you gonna be like the others now? Always getting on my case, being _clingy_ \--”

“The others?” Jaehyun’s grip tightened, and he leaned in closer, working that half centimeter he had on Sicheng for all it was worth. 

“You know what I mean.” Sicheng’s heartbeat was beginning to pick up. 

“Don’t think I do,” Jaehyun said. “You don’t do _this_ with them, do you?” 

“Do what?” Sicheng intoned. He fixed a dry look on Jaehyun; the expression he found there, his eyes now adjusted to the light, made his gut clench. 

“You know,” Jaehyun said, his voice low and sweet, almost cajoling. He moved Sicheng’s left hand and slid down his wrist until their fingers intertwined, pressing their palms over the crotch of Sicheng’s practice sweats. Jaehyun caressed it firmly, tracing the burgeoning hardness there with eyes locked on Sicheng’s. He repeated the question. 

Sicheng bit his tongue, glanced away. “What’s it to you?” 

Jaehyun’s hand froze. Their breaths caught, it was pin-drop quiet save for the pounding of Sicheng’s heart. “What’s it to me?” Jaehyun echoed. His jaw worked for a second. “I think I should know,” he said slowly, “if you’ve been slutting around.” His eyes were lidded, his hand hot over Sicheng’s. “Have you?”

Sicheng shook his head.

“No, right?” There something of a laugh of his voice. “Because you’re mine. Aren’t you?”

The question souped up the air between them; suddenly shallow, discreet intakes of breath became difficult. Sicheng bit his lip, inhaling through his nose. Just a little more. He wouldn’t give it to him yet. 

Jaehyun was motionless. He seemed at a loss. He shouldn’t have asked; that made it real. Then, in a rage, he dropped Sicheng’s left hand and seized him by the chin, forcing Sicheng to meet his gaze head-on. Sicheng squeezed his eyes shut as Jaehyun squashed his cheeks, fingers tight enough to make his skin well up with red. Jaehyun crushed their lean bodies together and slotted his own hard-on against Sicheng’s. Through the layers separating them, Sicheng could tell Jaehyun was already hugely erect--his head swam at the sensation, the image it conjured up. Jaehyun answered his own question with confidence. “You are,” he said. “You play hard to get, but you are.” 

“Mmph,” Sicheng said. 

“What’s that?” When Sicheng didn’t respond, Jaehyun let him go and backed away with a measured look of disgust. “Turn around, I wanna fuck your thighs.”

 _God_. Sicheng obeyed without thinking twice, clasping his hands and pressing his forearms to the door, pushing his hips out in a way that made his ears burn red. _That didn’t take long_. 

Jaehyun slid his hands down Sicheng’s back, thumbing his spine as if contemplating the contour of it, then pulled down the hem of his pants in one swift movement. Sicheng felt Jaehyun’s eyes on his bare flesh like a brand, and resisted the urge to wriggle away. “Missed your tight little ass.” 

_Has it been so long?_ Sicheng thought, but didn’t ask as Jaehyun grasped his bare hipbones and pulled his ass out further. He traced a finger down the slight curve of one cheek; reaching the bottom, he smacked it with the flat of his palm. Sicheng’s fingers curled. His cock was still caught in his boxers, the tip wetting the fabric. 

There was a soft rustling sound as Jaehyun lowered his nylon pants and pressed forward--and suddenly, the hard length therein was pressed bare against his ass, dry and feverishly hot. Jaehyun hummed his satisfaction as new precum blurted out of Sicheng’s own member; he was dying to look back, see the slow slide of Jaehyun’s cock between his quivering cheeks. So well-endowed was Jaehyun that his fully-erect cock seemed to dwarf Sicheng’s slender hips and barely-there ass. It was a wonder that he could get it in. Sicheng squeezed his thighs together, remembering it. 

Jaehyun ran the wet tip of his cock down until he nudged into the triangle of space between Sicheng’s thighs. “You’re so skinny, think this’ll work?” He spat on his hand and worked it over his dick for a moment. “Whenever I fuck you I feel like I might snap your waist…” His cock thrust between Sicheng’s legs, bumping against the underside of his balls. “Fuck, I wanna do it so bad.”

“Have a performance tomorrow,” Sicheng mumbled out, as if by rote. 

“Yeah, fucking performances. C’mon, squeeze ‘em.” He smacked Sicheng’s other cheek, and Sicheng’s eyes flew open, remembering his role. The knobs of his knees knocked together as Jaehyun’s dick thrust in and out of the soft, fleshy inner part of Sicheng’s thighs, coating the skin and fine hairs in saliva and precum. Jaehyun kept both hands on his hips, holding him fast, breath coming in short pants. “I’d have you walking like you were crippled.” 

Caught off guard, Sicheng made a derisive snort. Jaehyun must’ve heard, because he ducked closer, pressing one palm flat against the door and sliding the other up Sicheng’s slim waist and ribs. He thumbed harshly over a nipple, making Sicheng flinch and his cock throb. 

“I’m the only one who can do this, right?” Jaehyun murmured, breath ghosting over his ear. “I don’t care who wants you.” Sicheng didn’t have a retort--he didn’t care who wanted him, either. This was enough. Actually, this was everything. “I love your body. You get me so hard I can’t stand it.” 

Abandoning Sicheng’s nipple, Jaehyun circled one arm around Sicheng’s torso and pulled their bodies flush, Sicheng’s top rucked up so that the small of his back was bare. Jaehyun’s lips came down on Sicheng’s neck; he groaned into his skin, nipped at it softly, kissed it better. He pushed off the door and seized Sicheng by the jaw, forcing his head back. The angle was too awkward to kiss. Jaehyun let his head drop, mouth open on a sigh, and his hand slipped down Sicheng’s throat. 

It was as if Jaehyun had brushed over the tip of his cock. Heat speared his body in a direct line from some nerve ending in his neck to his dick, and Sicheng’s body seized, enough to make Jaehyun take notice. Jaehyun’s muscles tensed, as if he were about to draw away; desperate, Sicheng grabbed Jaehyun’s right hand and pressed just below his jawline, shuddering in anticipation. He couldn’t form the words to ask. He hoped it was enough. Jaehyun mumbled his name and circled his throat too gently even to tease. 

Sicheng let his head drop. The disappointment was crushing. His cock was dripping, and his skin felt tight, fit to burst. There was something he needed but couldn’t ask for--something he didn’t know he’d ever want. Then--as if the message had somehow, telepathically, gone through--Jaehyun’s fingers grew heavy, sinking into his soft skin. Thumb by the bolt of Sicheng’s jaw, Jaehyun dragged his head up and back, squeezing ever so slightly. Sicheng should have been able to breathe, but he found he couldn’t. He felt suspended in air, his existence--the full force of his arousal--narrowed to the points of contact between Jaehyun’s broad hand and his slightly cinched neck. 

No longer chasing his own pleasure, Jaehyun’s eyes bored into him, fascinated. He bent closer and nipped the lobe of Sicheng’s ear. “Look at you,” Jaehyun murmured. With a stuttering cry, Sicheng came into his boxers, untouched. 

Jaehyun didn’t quite understand what had happened. He’d almost forgotten his own desperate need to cum, fixated on Sicheng’s blue-white profile, the pliant curve of his neck. Jaehyun released him, startled, and Sicheng lurched, coughing. “Holy shit, did you just--are you okay?”

Withdrawing from Sicheng’s body, Jaehyun let him turn around and slump against the door. His legs were shaking. Jaehyun’s head felt light, like he might swoon too. 

“Fine,” Sicheng breathed out, barely audible. Jaehyun watched him slide down onto his ass, eyelids fluttering, then look up at Jaehyun with parted lips and a chest that rose and fell rapidly. As little as they’d done, he looked fucked up. Jaehyun’s balls ached. 

Without a word, Sicheng rose up onto his knees and shuffled closer. He seized the backs of Jaehyun’s clothed thighs, staring up at Jaehyun and not at the dripping erection inches from his face. He licked his lips. Already, his eyes seemed damp. 

“Wanna suck you,” Sicheng murmured. Jaehyun gave a jerky little nod, hand already going to Sicheng’s hair and combing through silky locks of it. He had half a mind to tell Sicheng to sit back and let Jaehyun finish all over his face--and he wasn’t far off--but there was little in this life he loved more than Sicheng’s mouth, so he didn’t. 

Sicheng went a little cross-eyed as he looked at it. He grasped Jaehyun’s cock at the base and, licking his plump bow lips, opened wide and let the tip slide onto his warm, wet palate. Precum drooled over his lips and made them glisten. Jaehyun could hardly stand to look, but he wouldn’t miss a second of this for the world. 

They didn’t discuss it. They didn’t discuss anything, really. That was how Sicheng liked things. Unpacking the implications of what they did, the way they were with each other, was a step too far towards something dangerous; and like every other step they’d taken, it would be irreversible. They wouldn’t be able to go back to the way they were. Sicheng replayed that night in his head every time he got off; and whenever they saw each other, it was as if they were nothing other than best friends. That was how this worked. 

He tried touching his neck while he did it, too, but it wasn’t the same. He needed someone else’s hands on him. Jaehyun’s, preferably. When they had schedules together, or ate together, or were in the same vicinity at all, he’d catch himself staring at those hands, imagining. 

But there was no rushing into these things--no forcing it. He decided to wait. 

Sicheng went right back to ignoring Jaehyun. This time, though, he kept making eyes at him, unsubtly enough that Jaehyun worried someone else might take notice, like he was waiting for Jaehyun to make a move. But their schedules rarely presented an opportunity; and when one arose, Sicheng was nowhere to be found. Jaehyun felt like a puppet, like his whole person was being moved about on strings. His impatience grew. When they talked, playing at normal the way they did, Jaehyun found it hard to think about anything else. 

Come one particularly long, agonizing schedule, Jaehyun arrived at the end of his rope. It wasn’t just the hours of waiting, or the harsh, careless way the stylists poked and prodded at Jaehyun’s face and hair and body, or the suffocating heat of multi-layered outfits under the glare of stage lights--these were all normal. In the waiting room, between the minutes he spent checking and re-checking his phone, Jaehyun had spent a solid hour watching Sicheng _flirt_ with his bandmates. There was no mistaking it. 

Sicheng was cockier than usual, more sly. When they hugged him, he leaned into it and rubbed against them in a way that would’ve gotten Jaehyun hard, to say nothing for Yuta or whoever it was this time. When they leaned into his personal space with some stupid remark, he’d toss his head and run a hand through his hair, a hapless grin curving his lips. He sat with his legs spread, limbs splayed easily. Jaehyun had the distinct impression that he was begging for one of them to pick him up and fuck him against the wall. Why? Was Jaehyun not doing it for him anymore? His knuckles went white around the armrest. There was only so much he could take before storming off to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face--makeup be damned--and returning only to find that Sicheng had just left. 

Only after, hours later, did Jaehyun catch him alone. 

If the stage lights were hot, the broom closet Jaehyun had pulled him into was downright oppressive. Sicheng choked on dust as Jaehyun pinned him to the wall and went for his exposed clavicle, no introduction needed. 

“Wow,” Sicheng droned, “what’s got you so worked up?”

Jaehyun’s teeth came out. Sicheng wondered, detached from the reality of it, if it would leave a bruise. He pulled away and ground their hips together; Jaehyun was already halfway to hard in his tight jeans. Well, there was no going back out with that. “You’d let them fuck you, wouldn’t you?”

Sicheng was taken aback. “Who?”

“The others.” 

In the space of a breath, everything clicked into place. _No, I wouldn’t_ , Sicheng thought, but he said nothing, biting his lip instead. Jaehyun made a noise that was half disgusted, half like a sob. 

“You think about it?” Jaehyun ground his hips into Sicheng’s, his breath hot on Sicheng’s face. In the darkness, only his silhouette was visible. “They wouldn’t know what to do with you.” 

“And you do?” Sicheng shot back. 

“Better than you do yourself.” He inched closer and captured Sicheng’s lips like a moth homing on a flame. Jaehyun kissed him open-mouthed, and after the shock faded, shivery arousal flooded Sicheng’s veins and set his skin alight. He was certainly doing his best to persuade. 

“Not possible,” Sicheng said the second he had the breath to spare. Jaehyun hummed low in his throat. He slid a hand over Sicheng’s ass and under his thigh, pulling up the knee. Sicheng wished they were naked--he hated that he couldn’t experience Jaehyun’s touch directly. 

“You need me to do this,” Jaehyun murmured, as if he was trying to convince himself. It was too close to truth. Sicheng flinched away from it, but Jaehyun pulled him back to the light, shining it on his body, stripped bare, until his skin burned. He cradled the back of Sicheng’s neck and knocked their foreheads together. There was a curve to Jaehyun's lips, Sicheng could feel it--a smile. Sicheng let his head thud back against the closet wall, the pain softened by the rush of adrenaline in his veins. Jaehyun’s hand slipped, ghosting over Sicheng’s windpipe. Sicheng swallowed, letting Jaehyun feel it. “You like that.”

 _You don’t need me to tell you, do you?_ Sicheng hummed, aiming for noncommittal but landing somewhere in _whiny_ and _pleading_. He would’ve cringed, thrown a hand over his eyes, but Jaehyun’s gentle touch froze him in place. His entire being was suspended in anticipation. 

“I know every spot that makes you go wild,” Jaehyun murmured as he strengthened his grip, his thumb brushing over Sicheng’s pulse, deceptively soothing. “The complete catalogue.”

“They’d learn,” Sicheng burst out. Who _they_ were, or was, Sicheng couldn’t say. If you’d asked, he’d say there wasn’t anyone in the world but the two of them.

“They could learn,” Jaehyun admitted, and his breath teased Sicheng’s lips; “but whenever they touched you, you’d remember that I was there first.” 

They hadn’t discussed their respective sexual histories, not really, the subject being as awkward as it is--but Jaehyun wasn’t wrong, far from it. It was obvious. Sicheng fell apart under him like a virgin that first time, months and months ago; then, Jaehyun had eaten up all his firsts as fast as Sicheng could give them up. There were no more layers of chastity to unwind, no more roadblocks to total bliss. 

But that wasn’t true--there was a part of Sicheng that he guarded jealously, a part where his shame was at its most intense and his modesty was impregnable. It thudded in his chest.

The sound of their breathing and the smell of cologne and hair product and dust filled the space between them. Outside, muffled through the thick door, dull voices and banal conversations could be heard. A smattering of laughter. Footsteps. Jaehyun’s silhouette cocked its head. Words sat poised on Sicheng’s tongue, but he couldn’t breathe. The pleasure was exquisite. 

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/winwinism).


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